“She’s drawing in life essence from the sword,” Padair said. Black smoke enveloped Keya’s kneeling form. “She doesn’t belong here! Fight!” Padair, unarmed, charged Keya. His little furry legs carried him across the grass with two horns lowered. Ardwin followed his friend.
Keya’s eyes snapped open. She stood and held Ninathril in a high guard. Padair feinted to the left. Keya bought his bluff, swiping out with the silver steel longsword, but Padair rolled out of her way. Her sword lowered, Ardwin leaped through the air, ready to deliver a falling fist to the elf’s face. Eternal grace guided her out of his way at the last moment. She spun and struck out with the sword. Padair tackled Ardwin. They landed on the grass and skidded to a stop. Ardwin stood. He offered Padair a hand and helped him to his hooves. Keya stepped forward. Ardwin lowered himself into a defensive stance. He looked at Padair. “Is there something you can conjure or something?”
“I’m not an elf!” Padair cried. “Where are your weapons?”
“She has them!” Ardwin pointed at the mad elf, slowly stalking toward them. Keya raised Ninathril and charged, wailing a high-pitched battle cry, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. Ardwin rolled to the right. Padair went left. Keya spun and unleashed a flurry of blows on Ardwin, who dodged and moved, but Keya kept pushing forward relentlessly. Under the mad hammering of the elf’s sword arm, a realization struck Ardwin: She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Silversteel flashed before his eyes. Ardwin shifted his weight to the right and allowed Ninathril to slip past him, delivering a few swift punches to Keya’s midsection and then slipping away. Keya turned on him and hacked with the silversteel blade. Her strategy is to wail on me until I break, disregarding defense. Padair passed in a blur as Keya stepped out of the satyr’s trajectory.
Ardwin swept at her ankles with his right leg, but the elf jumped over his kick, spun on a heel, and renewed her reckless assault.
Keya pressed her advantage too far, extending her sword behind her head to deliver a vicious blow, so Ardwin stepped closer and planted his right elbow on Keya’s lidless brow. The brow split, spraying her face with blood. Keya grunted. She fell to the ground, as did the sword. Keya reached for Ninathril. Ardwin snatched the sword and pointed it at the bloodied elf. “You fought the gods? You?” The elf scrambled over the grass, crawling away, tripping over her long robe. “You’re not a warrior!”
Ardwin lifted Ninathril over his head. “Wait!” Keya raised her hands before her face, cowering. White strands of hair faded, turning gray, as did the moonstone in her twisted forehead.
“Why should I?” Ardwin held the blade aloft.
“End it!” Padair cried.
Keya sniffled. “I just wanted to make things better.” She sobbed. “My kind have suffered too long—only because we are different! We are powerful!” She lowered her head to the dirt. “Beyond imagining!” The elf raised a burning glare to meet Ardwin. “Nanwen Materia!” Keya vanished. Birds chirped as they fluttered through the tangled branches, while rabbits and squirrels returned to their woodland paradise.
“She’s gone!” Ardwin shouted.
“We’ve gotta get you back to your body!” Padair ran to Ardwin. “Come on! She might beat us!”
Ardwin gazed at the black gem within Ninathril’s pommel. “I have the sword. Is there a way to get us out of this mess? Without dealing with Keya, that is.” Ardwin rested the longsword on his shoulder. “This is what I came for.”
Padair looked at the grass. “No.” He shook his head. “This world doesn’t work like yours, my friend. It doesn’t work like any world other than itself.”
Ardwin cocked an eyebrow. “Which means?”
“The more time we spend talking, the more likely Keya mutilates your body while your mind is stuck here,” Padair said. “And don’t forget: Rose is on that ship, too.” Ardwin scoffed. “Who knows what Keya will do to her? Come on. It’s time to go. Pan wants you out of his garden.” The satyr grabbed Ardwin’s right hand, closed his eyes, and tightened his grip. “Follow me!” Ardwin followed Padair along a twisting, rooty trail through a dense forest. The sounds of Pan’s Garden swelled: birds chirping, fluttering their feathers, squirrels munching and shaking shaggy limbs as they leaped from tree to tree, and rabbits thumping the earth with their feet. An incoherent voice whispered in the back of his mind. Others joined. They grew louder, as did the creaking and moaning, seawater crashing and churning. Salt wind filled his lungs. Ardwin opened his eyes to a strange scene: sailors chasing a satyr and a mad elf staring him down. Strangest of all, Ninathril remained in his possession.
Keya, eyes filled to their brims with horror, dull strands of hair mingling with the pure white clinging to life, backed away from him. “Die!” She raised her hands, trembling fingers splayed, and pushed her palms toward Ardwin. Black smoke swirled around Ninathril’s blade, then funneled into the black gem of its pommel. “No!” she screeched. “Kill him!”
Silver lightning streaked through the air, connecting with Ninathril and releasing a brilliant white flash. Ardwin’s bones rattled as thunder crackled overhead. Ardwin blinked away white spots from his temporary blindness to see the longsword glowing pure white, then dimming at its natural silver. “Again!” Keya shouted. A little blue light shone above the center mast. Padair streaked through the air and absorbed the second bolt from Animiki’s Talon. He hit the deck, rolling across the smoldering planks. The Retaliating Rapier streaked past Ardwin’s head, then turned toward the sky and harried the invisible lightning-wielder. Padair struggled to regain footing. A gang of six sailors piled up on the satyr and forced him to the deck, but Padair vanished and, a moment later, reappeared behind Ardwin.
Keya drew a dagger from her sleeve. “You wretched creature!”
Ardwin raised Ninathril. A sailor lept, jabbing out with a harpoon, to which Ardwin turned and parried away the blow, then slicing the man’s back. Keya sprinted across the ship as her crew, now free of the Retaliating Rapier’s onslaught, crashed into Ardwin and Padair. Ardwin turned away a dagger, then cut through a quarterstaff and sunk Ninathril into its wielder’s collarbone. The Silverite pulled free and, in one fluid motion, found a home in another man’s throat.
Keya ran toward the ship's stern, pulled open the castle’s door, and disappeared inside.
Three elves circled Ardwin, so he rolled and swept Ninathril towards their legs, but the elves gracefully leaped over him. However, no one stood between him and the stern castle. Ardwin ran. The ship lurched beneath his feet, and a thunderous sound rumbled. He stumbled and then fell on his face. Ardwin turned an eye toward the prow. A ship passed to their starboard side—a smaller caravel—dangerously close, grinding hulls. Grappling hooks soared through the air and found purchase in the timber and rigging. Familiar faces rushed aboard Keya’s ship, climbing its hull or falling from swinging ropes: Skiggi and Dori, wielding a two-handed ax and crossbow respectively, the Arcadia twins and their daggers, Deacon and Theo wielding sabers. Dozens of smugglers, wielding a colorful arsenal of harpoons and flaying knives, boarded the ship and immediately set upon Keya’s crew. The Retaliating Rapier swirled overhead, chasing its invisible prey. Ardwin pushed himself off the deck and gathered his wits. What are they doing here?
A black-haired man with a tangle of beard ran at Ardwin with a spear lowered. Ardwin dodged a jab of the spearhead, then sliced through the man’s midsection. Three elves attacked from different angles, so Ardwin spun around with Ninathril, taking a throat. A quarterstaff sank into his rib cage, knocking him off balance but saving Ardwin from the third elf’s dagger. Ardwin spun to face the elves. The first elf stepped forward and began prodding Ardwin with the tip of his staff while the other circled, but Ardwin bounced backward on light feet. The first charged again, but Ardwin shattered the staff and took the elf’s head in a single blow, causing the dagger-wielding elf to back away and look to the sky for escape. He shouted: “Aglad!” At this command, a blue dot glowed in the night sky. The Retaliating Rapier honed in on that blue light and zipped through the air, intercepting and absorbing the following lighting. Ardwin raised Ninathril. The immortal flared his daggers out wide and crouched low. Thunder grumbled.
They launched into a frenzy of steel and sparks, sword meeting dagger, ringing over the crashing sea. Ardwin parried away a blow and stepped into his opponent, sinking Ninathril through the immortal’s chest. The elf slumped against Ardwin and fell to the deck with a wet thud. Skiggi spotted him. He and his wife cut across the deck and through a press of Imperial agents, shouting at Ardwin: “We got your letter! What have they done with Rose?”
My letter?
The dwarves stopped a few feet short. “Where is she, Gus?”
“I don’t know,” Ardwin said. “My mark is in that castle.” He moved toward the stern, but Skiggi grabbed his cloak and tugged. Ardwin turned on the dwarf. “Rose tried to kill me! I don’t owe her anything, and neither do you.” He turned his back on the couple.
“She did what?” Dori asked.
“She poisoned me,” Ardwin said. “Left me for dead.”
Skiggi stepped forward. He dipped the ax’s heavy head to the ship’s deck and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Rose knows a thing or two about poisons, lad. If she wanted you dead, then you’d be dead. I’m sure she had her reasons. Now, Rose might be in that castle, too. We’re following your lead!”
“It’s too dangerous,” Ardwin said. “Search below deck!” He pointed toward a hatch near the front mast. Skiggi nodded, then trotted away, rejoining the fray of smugglers and sailors. Dori hesitated. “Go!”
The little lady bit her lip and groaned in frustration. “Good luck!” She chased after her husband.
Ardwin turned toward the stern castle, its door standing open. He ran. A man, standing broader and taller than the frame, wrapped in silver plate armor from head to toe and wielding a war hammer befitting a goliath, ducked, stepping through the door sideways. Ardwin skidded to a halt. Is that silverite? The big man thumped across the deck, metallic feet falling into a rhythm, building speed: thump, thump, thump. He charged, swinging his war hammer in a wide arc. Ardwin ducked under the blow and rolled around the armored man, then delivered a swift slice to the backs of his knees. Sliversteel scraped against silversteel. The mountain stood.
The war hammer fell. Ardwin rolled away from splinters, spraying the air as the plank beside his head collapsed. He stood and assumed a defensive position. The man charged again, shoulder lowered. Ardwin timed the blow, moving behind its path and delivering a futile strike to the armored man’s head. He stepped back, keeping Ninathril high and reassessing: there must be a weakness!
Ardwin stared down his opponent, whose momentum carried him into another sweeping attack with his war hammer, smashing a nearby barrel, and spraying water and wood. Eyes full of blind rage peered through a narrow slit in the visor. I’d need a miracle. Ardwin dodged another blow, watching his opponent track movements with his head on a stiff swivel limited by the carapace of metal. Plates wrapped the throat. Futile. His opponent lifted his war hammer high, revealing chainmail guarding each pit beneath his arms. It’s something. Ardwin stepped to the side and allowed the war hammer to pass. He lifted Ninathril and delivered a swift strike to the back of his opponent’s helm. The man growled like a beast. Ardwin retreated. The giant man stepped forward, lifting his war hammer.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
A flash of light blinded Ardwin. His bones rattled. Ninathril clattered against the ship’s deck.
Thump, thump, thump. Heavy feet fell.
Ardwin, blind, leaped away. He scrambled across the deck as the war hammer swished overhead. He found the mast with searching hands and then felt the wood erupt above his knuckles, splinters spraying his face and chest. Ardwin rolled, then scrambled to his feet. Vision returned. He ran toward the thick of the fight—the press of bodies—a space to confine the raging bull chasing him across the ship. Ardwin dodged between combatants, ducked a quarterstaff, and rolled between the legs of a tall elf. Turning an eye over his shoulder, he spotted the giant metal man shoving smugglers and sailors out of his way. Theo, young and stupid, stepped into the big man’s path.
“No!” Ardwin shouted.
The big man raised his hammer in the air and brought it down. Theo stepped to the left, lashing out with his saber. The boy’s steel didn’t even scratch his enemy’s silverite. Theo lashed out again. The big man allowed Theo’s sword to bounce off his helmet, wrapped his right paw around Theo’s throat, and lifted the boy. Ardwin ran to Theo’s aid but tripped on an outstretched foot.
Ardwin face-planted. His nose erupted in pain. He lifted his head, blood dripping onto his lips and his chin, and watched on in horror as the big man crushed Theo’s throat, then threw the boy to the side like an empty flask. Deacon cried out in rage. The smuggler charged the metal man, swinging his saber, but wilted under the might of their foe. Tyandrea Accardi grabbed his captain and pulled him back. Ardwin wrestled against shins and thighs as he regained his footing. He locked eyes with the metal giant. The two waded through the thick of the fight, seeking each other. Ardwin snatched up Theo’s saber. He lunged and prodded with its tip, encouraging the big man to attack.
He did. The war hammer followed a low path from the left, arcing upward. Ardwin shifted his weight to the right, slipping past the blow and leaping past his opponent. Ardwin sunk the saber’s tip into the chainmail at the man’s pit. The big man grunted, but the blow was little more than a nuisance.
Ardwin backed away. The big man followed, bringing the hammer straight down. The planks cracked beneath its weight. He lifted the maul laboriously. Ardwin backed into a man locked in combat and found an arm wrapped around his throat. He dropped Theo’s saber and lowered his weight, bending at the knees and flipping his assailant over his head. Another body crashed against Ardwin. His left side exploded in pain as he fell to the deck like a limp doll. A dead smuggler lay on top of him.
The metal man lumbered toward the pile of twisted flesh with slow, plodding steps.
Ardwin wiggled his way out from beneath the corpse. He stood. The metal man lifted his hammer’s head and wound up for another broad sweep. A gust of wind rippled through Ardwin’s hair as he leaped over the ship's side, clinging to the hull’s sea-slick edge. Ardwin mustered strength to pull his weight over the ship’s hull. He lifted his head and watched the metal man march toward him and rear back for a downward blow. A blur of black hair and swinging limbs collided with the metal man’s ribs, knocking him off-balance and his hammer off course. Skiggi pestered the Silverite-clad mountain with blows from his ax, but its edge was no better than a bludgeon against the armor and incapable of leaving a dent. Dori fired bolt after bolt, each bouncing off the Silverite and darting into the night. Ardwin scrambled back onto the deck. He spotted Theo’s sword, picked it up, and waited for the metal man’s next attack to leap in and deliver a stout jab to the man’s right pit.
The metal man yelped in pain, released a battle cry, and turned on Ardwin, swinging the massive hammer with one hand. Ardwin ducked the blow. Skiggi sprinted, then spun and viciously struck their enemy’s right leg. The leg bent, bringing the metal man to a knee. He bounced back to his feet with surprising agility.
Ardwin moved in, leaping over the hammer’s low sweep and jabbing at the metal man’s eye-slot. The saber glanced off the helm. Ardwin landed and rolled as the wind from the hammer swooshed overhead.
The metal man, swinging his hammer from left to right, charged Ardwin, who back-stepped toward the starboard hull near a rigging run and waited for the bull to close the distance. The metal man swung wide. Ardwin dropped the saber and leaped over the ship’s hull, this time grabbing hold of the rigging, palms burning as they wrung the wet hemp, his feet dangling over the sea. His enemy’s armor sparkled under the glow of a nearby lamp, casting countless glittering rainbows from every droplet of water gathered across its surface.
A bell’s toll rang clear over the clatter of battle, the crashing sea, and the slosh from the sky.
The metal man stumbled forward, toppled over the ship’s hull, and stretched out a metal hand for Ardwin, grasping the rope, which snapped beneath his weight. Darkness swallowed him. Ardwin swung from the loose rigging, shoulders and hands burning, aching.
“We’ll throw a rope!” Dori shouted, shortly followed by: “Never mind!”
Nevermind? Ardwin ground his teeth. His cloak caught in the wind and spun him, which twisted the rope and set a sickening back and forth into motion. I can’t hold on forever!
“Here!” Padair shouted. Ardwin looked up to witness his friend, with one hand on the severed rigging and the other holding a rope trailing back to the ship. “Take it!” Ardwin grabbed the rope. Padair vanished. Ardwin released the rigging and swung towards the ship, then plunged into a suffocating abyss. Ardwin kicked his legs and held firm to the rope. His head found birth, then slammed against the seasoned timber of the caravel. He rose above the water and skidded along the ship until slinging an arm over the hull and rolling onto the deck. He lay gasping, staring into a black sky. Ardwin sat up.
“Are you okay, Gus?” Dori stood close to Skiggi, who used his battle ax to prop himself upright, resting its head on the deck.
Ardwin nodded. “I’m here.”
Padair approached on legs covered in knotted, wet fur, hooves clapping against the ship’s planks. He cradled Ninathril in his arms. The satyr handed Ardwin the sword, then took a step back. “If it’s so important to you, you better learn to hold on to it.” The satyr’s head appeared lopsided.
He lost a horn! Ardwin pointed at the satyr’s head. “You’re horn!”
Padair rubbed the jagged nub where his left horn should have been. “That man weighed more than a boulder. Then again, maybe all the boulders I’ve rammed finally caught up with me. I suppose losing things is a part of life.” He shrugged. Then, he held up his right hand and revealed the curling horn that had broken free. “You better go finish this. I need to rest. The sword will protect you from her magic, but you should know, friend, if you keep that sword, it will consume you.”
“Thank you,” Ardwin said. “If I ever call upon you again, it will be for a merry occasion.”
“Just like that?” Dori folded her hands as her husband, Skiggi, eyed the satyr, grimacing.
“You have important matters to discuss,” Padair said. Then he disappeared. Skiggi grumbled incoherently, but Dori merely lifted her repeating crossbow and turned her gaze toward the open door of the stern castle.
Skiggi snapped his fingers. “Gus, this ship is rigged! Firepowder! Tons of the stuff!” He stomped on the deck with both feet. “Right below our feet!”
Ardwin’s heart plummeted. “Get everyone off the ship!”
Dori spun. “We’re not leaving you behind! We came to help! Now, where are they keeping Rose? I know you’re mad at her, but Skiggi's right, you know? She didn't want to kill you. Rose is a survivor. She must have had a plan! If you don’t trust us, then trust your gut. What does it say?”
Ardwin stood up. “I’ll get Rose.”
Dori shook her head. “Gus—”
“You have my word.” Ardwin stepped toward the little woman and offered his hand. The two shook. “Go! Go!”
Skiggi took his wife’s hand and led her toward Deacon’s ship. Ardwin sighed. Is this the end? He looked at the starless sky. A mass of tangled shadows fluttered, folding in on itself and snapping in the breeze. What is that? Ardwin ran to the mast. The formless shadows shaped into a silhouette of deep, impenetrable blackness sprouting gray tendrils. Silver shone at its heart. Ardwin climbed. Straddling the yardarm, he gawked at the spectacle: an elf wearing black boiled leathers and his invisibility cloak—at least, what shreds remained of it. The Retaliating Rapier protruded from the elf’s chest and pinned his corpse to the mast. The Talon’s gone, he realized. He scanned the deck far below. The battle had turned into a scramble of bloodied Imperial agents regrouping near the stern, while smugglers scrambled in every direction, leaping over hulls and cutting their grappling ropes.
Ardwin pulled the rapier free from the elf, who tumbled toward the deck. He slid the rapier’s thin blade into his belt loop, then climbed down the mast and removed his shredded cloak from the body. Then, he threw off his new cloak and replaced it with the elvish threads gifted to him by the court mage. I know you still have some magic.
He marched toward the stern castle.
Pillars climbed the walls, stretching to the ceiling, three to either side. A desk littered with papers sat in the right-hand corner. To the left, a featherbed. Rose sat in a wooden chair at the back of the room, her head lulling to the side and eyes half-closed and glossy. Keya stood behind the chair, dagger held to her captive’s throat. “You thought you’d won?” Keya cackled.
“I did.” Ardwin raised Ninathril, gripping the sword’s leather-bound handle in both hands. “I will die a free man.”
“You are an impeccable specimen,” Keya said. “It’s a shame.”
“Are you going to light those kegs or not?” Ardwin stepped forward. “There’s only one way to end an immortal life—in the blaze of glory. Tell me, what do you seek in death?”
“Peace!” Keya hissed. Ardwin took another step forward. Keya turned her dagger, and its steel glistened under Rose’s chin. Ardwin stopped. “An end! I serve God diligently. I protected my people from the forces of chaos and persecution. There are no regrets but one. You! No magic can heal the damage you’ve done!”
“That’s not true,” Ardwin said. “I met an elf who stitched my skin together with a precision that a seamstress could only dream of achieving. Perhaps she could heal you. I would give you her name—”
Keya chuckled as she shook her head. “No.” The castle door slammed shut behind Ardwin. He turned. Murphrey stood between Ardwin and the door, Animiki’s Talon clutched in his right hand, pointing its curved silver-steel blade at Ardwin. “There’s no need to argue or bargain. You’ve lost. Lay down your sword, and I will spare your friends.” Keya placed her hand on Rose’s head. “Can you not hear the truth when it is shouting in your ear?”
“You can’t win this fight, Ardwin,” Murph said.
Ardwin held Ninathril in a high guard. “You wrote that letter, didn’t you? Led us all into her trap?” Ardwin reared the longsword back, titling it behind his right shoulder, pointing its tip at the ceiling. Murph’s eyes glazed over like Rose’s. “Are you Murph or Keya’s puppet? What has she done to you? Are you in there?”
Murph snorted, then smiled, temples wrinkling as his eyes narrowed. “They called you the ‘Hand of God?’” He tilted his head.
“I would see you reclaim that title!” Keya’s shrill voice filled the cabin, capturing their attention. “You, Brother Murphrey, and your allies will become extensions of myself so that we can make a better world together! You will help me build a new Holy Order! It is the rational step towards harmony! Towards lasting peace! We will lead all races to a splendid future! Can you see it, brother?”
Ardwin looked at Murph, dull eyes beneath a thin brow. He’s gone. Ardwin pivoted on his left foot. The strips of his magical cloak fluttered. Wind propelled him. Ninathril sliced through the air and struck Animik’s Talon, knocking it from Murph’s hand. Ardwin swung again. Murph lept beneath the blade and rolled across the floor.
Ardwin spun.
“Stop!” Keya raised her left hand to her forehead and touched the milky-white moonstone with two fingers. Ardwin charged the elf, but Murph intervened.
Ardwin pivoted and jabbed, sinking Ninathril into his former brother’s sternum. Murph gasped.
Keya closed her eyes. “Lacho!”
Murphrey sank to his knees, tendrils of black mist seeping from his flesh and following the length of Ninathril’s blade to the gem embedded in its pommel. Ardwin followed, peering into death’s eyes—lost and unfocused. Murph’s lids fell, so Ardwin laid him on his side, then stood up. He faced Keya, whose immortal eyes sparkled with tears. “It’s too late,” her voice faltered. Then, her eyes filled with rage, her face smeared into a wicked smile, baring her teeth, snarling. “It’s too late!”
Ardwin crouched, shoving off the floor and mustering a desperate gasp of wind from his tattered cloak, soaring across the room, striking out with Ninathril.
Keya ducked, sprawling onto the floor. Ardwin slammed against the back wall. He spun as Keya scrambled to her feet, delivering a roundhouse kick to her face. Keya spiraled, then fell unconscious. He sliced through Rose’s bindings with Ninathril and tugged her out of her chair, then flung the woman over his shoulder. Let’s go! He passed through the doorway onto an abandoned deck, heart thumping in his chest. Waves crashed, but incoherent voices carried over the waters. Deacon’s ship still rubbed hulls with Keya’s vessel. They’re struggling to pry free! Gus took a step, but the deck lurched beneath his feet. Time slowed. The planks bowed, swelling, ballooning into a dome that erupted as a spray of splinters and fire. Heat bathed him. A flash of yellow light washed everything away.